


Weed Is In The Air

by TransformersG1fan271



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fiction, General fiction, Literature, M/M, Short Stories, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:17:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271
Summary: So I saw a picture drawn by shannonsketches on tumblr and I immediately had to write a drabble about our two favorite nerds getting as high as a kite.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw a picture drawn by    
>  [ ](http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?https://tmblr.co/mhAO3yEFG-LO-SObuYYYsAA)[ShannonSketches](http://shannonsketches.deviantart.com)   
>   and I immediately had to write a drabble on this. I mean lets be honest, Fiddleford smokes weed faaar more than the average guy, and eventually he would get Ford to try it out not only to relax, but get a chance to get up close and personal.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I don't own these babes --> Disney XD/Alex Hirsch
> 
>  
> 
> So yea, enjoy our high af boys :3
> 
>  
> 
>   
> [tmblr.co/mhAO3yEFG-LO-SObuYYYs…](http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?https://tmblr.co/mhAO3yEFG-LO-SObuYYYsAA)  
> 

Ford had to admit the man he shared his dorm room with was…strange. The man was a genius, his little dabbles with whatever technology he could get his hands on were truly amazing, yet here he was all because he couldn’t afford to better college much like Ford himself. However, one thing that annoyed Ford to no greater end was when Fiddleford came back to their dorm high as a kite about twice a month, the man a giggling mess until the next morning when he would rush to his classes having slept well past the time he needed to get up.

“Why must you insist on getting high on a regular basis?” Ford finally asked in frustration, glaring at the drugged up male who was slowly making his way to his bed as if walking through water.

“Why not man? It helps me with my thinkin’ somethin’ fierce around exam time.” Fiddleford grinned, tripping over a spare shoe and falling face first onto his bed with a content groan.

“But how?! You are often late to classes and forget to turn in assignments on those nights, which surely affect your standing grade.” The six-fingered male frowned, placing his completed paper aside and crossing his arms as Fiddleford sat up on his bed with a funny grin on his face. “…what?”

“You’re waaaay too uptight. You should try getting high, it’ll be loads of fun! And it’ll help you calm down like, stat.” Fiddleford leaned over his bed and reached under it, rummaging for a few moments before pulling out a small box that had a lighter taped to the top. “Look, we have no classes tomorrow, so why not relax?”

“Well…I suppose one hit won’t hurt…” Ford pondered, the lit blunt in his large hand before he could even blink with an eager Fiddleford standing beside him. What harm could one hit be?

Well plenty it seemed, as Ford found himself so high that he couldn’t stand, so resigned himself to lying on the floor and looking up at the ceiling in fascination.

“I wonder how we look to the ceiling…” He wondered aloud, glancing down with his slightly red eyes as Fiddleford looked up, having been lying on top of his roommate for no real reason that Ford could think of at the moment.

“I dunno know man, maybe we look like moving lines? With different colors because of our hair?”

“Maybe…then again the ceiling can only see this room, or maybe each ceiling on each floor can see everything?”

“Like its spying on us man? Never thought of it that way…” Fiddleford pondered, already pulling out another blunt for him and Ford to share.

“Buildings are so weird…” Ford commented, accepting the passed over blunt as he inhaled deeply, feeling himself being pulled further into a state of mind he never thought he had. Drugs were amazing, why hadn’t he done this before?  
  



End file.
